As Barbed as Stars
As barbed as stars in sharpness in the blacks
Of wounded space our memories burn. No green
Comes glinting from them. Flashbacks launch attacks
In other colors, acrid, not serene.
A razor red comes ripping through the dark,
No telescopic intervention called
For. Acid orange pinpoints stippled, stark
Night hours. Yet worst to see is sulphorous scald
Of orbs like our own sun, though distant in
Their noxiousness, or maybe dwarf white
Souvenirs appall us more. They make their din
Of silence, mouthing warnings from their height.
Among them all the most insidious hue
(And hottest) is depressing stellar blue.